


Wilbur Does the Emotional Equivalent of Bashing Phil in the Head with a Folding Chair

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: Dream Team Fics (Lol So Original) [33]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Blood, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Daedalus - Freeform, Death Threats, Emotional Whump, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Fire, Food mentions, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Gen, Happy Ending, Hospitals, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I mean he kicks someone in the back, IVs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Manipulation, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Manipulative Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Manipulative Relationship, Manipulative Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Oxygen Masks, Physical Whump, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Sort Of, Swearing, Swords, Water, Whump, Wilbur goes off, Wilbur is speaking to Dream like that because he thinks that Dream, and the other screamed at me for food because she blackmails me, and when I say Wilbur goes off, as one of my younger friends, because my friend gives me the same vibes as them, emotionally at least, hard angst, has been manipulated as well, hence the spaghetti noodle and jello comparisons, icarus - Freeform, just a note, just a side note tommy and tubbo give me the same vibes, kind of going off, lol y'all have no clue what's going on, oh yeah you know all the trauma?, open/ambiguous ending, originally named "Nice Job Killza", shoves them off a cliff, stabbings, we're bringing that up, well he just be a fox, written while one guinea pig behaved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28767708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: Phil glanced up at him, wide-eyed. “Let the past die, Phil.” Staring down at him, Wilbur mused, “That’s what you told me. And you were right. I will let the past die. I’ll let the past die,” eyes going cold, he spat, “and I’ll let you die along with it.”~Wilbur faces off with his father once and for all as a storm ravages the battered remains of the dystopian hellscape the SMP has become.
Relationships: Eret & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Dream Team Fics (Lol So Original) [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012464
Comments: 26
Kudos: 237





	Wilbur Does the Emotional Equivalent of Bashing Phil in the Head with a Folding Chair

**Author's Note:**

> Edit from the next day b/c I'm losing it: So apparently I was definitely sleep-deprived, seeing as how I didn't tag ONE CHARACTER that's actually in this and only used relationships. I'm not even going to ask how y'all found this but I find that beyond hilarious!  
> TWs in tags. Please know this takes place after the whole L’manberg explosion and the Killza bit where Ghostbur came into existence. This counts under the mixed World 7 (With a Final Breath’s break server) and Pof (service dog) AUs.  
> Also, before you yell at me for being up and moving around after being halfway to pass out land, I’m fine. I took like a three hour nap and ate a ton of food and my mom agreed to get the things so—whoo! I’m back and I need to write myself out of energy, which means this and then doing some other stuff for my actual books. Also, I really want to draw a thing so if this gets a certain amount of response (no I’m not telling you what) I’m going to put that on my tumblr after making a warning about what else might pop up. AND, fun thing—I get to do an animatic for my Journalism class because my article is about animatics and storyboarding! Yay!  
> I’m also ignoring the heck out of the actual canon going on, which is specifically why the mixed World 7 AU exists. That and I’ve been manipulated by quite a few people since about sixth grade, which is why I’m still trying to figure out how the hell to watch the episodes with Dream manipulating Tommy (roleplay) without triggering anything. I can’t even listen to “The Judge” by TOP because one of those people. Anyways, excuse the angst, that first paragraph’s all you need to know for this fic.  
> I have a near 7,000 word partially done fanfic in my WIPs and it scares me. Some of it is determined by dice rolls and it’s been hilarious.  
> Let’s jump into this.

**WilburSoot was slain by Ph1LzA**

+++

It’s an awkward moment, to say the least.

Wilbur’s sitting on the hospital bed, fresh out of post-respawn emergency surgery with bandages wrapped around his stomach and arms where his own sword burnt him. Across from him, against the wall, Phil is sitting in a chair with his ankle on his knee and one hand supporting his chin. Concern splatters his face. Since the filming, he’s washed himself. There’s no hint of the carnage that was Wilbur blowing up their L’manberg set. Well, no hint except for the blood and ash caked beneath Phil’s nails. No hint except the sooty grey smudging his fingertips and jaw where his thumb is currently pressed to his skin. More soft tones of ash are drawn across his nose and cheeks, like he’d dragged his hand down his face a couple times in shock or exhaustion after filming.

Hands resting in his lap, breath misting up the oxygen mask, Wilbur picked at the threads in the blanket. A sigh rattled through his chest and he looked up. “So…”

Swallowing, Phil replied, “So…”

Silence settled over the both of them again.

Wilbur took another breath, then looked up. “Alright, Phil, let’s not leave this awkward. You killed me, I’m okay, that’s what matters. Right?”

“I still killed you.”

“And I respawned. As always.” Grinning slyly, Wilbur wiggled his fingers in the air, “And now I have to be a _spooky ghost.”_ He said the words in a sing-song tone. Smiling, Phil shook his head and looked to the side. “Come on, Phil. Dad. It’s not that hard.”

“No…now I just need to…blow up L’manberg at the end of the season finale.” Slumping down in the chair, Phil stared up at the ceiling. “And call Tommy selfish. And a lot of other stuff. Yell at you, blow up your sheep friend—you know what, why do—why do we write this stuff?” Sitting upright, he asked, “What’s wrong with a filler episode?”

Shrugging, Wilbur studied the baby turquoise curtains off to his left. “I dunno. People like the whump, I guess.”

“But _why_? Why do they enjoy seeing people hurt?” Wilbur started touching the blankets again, still shrugging. Sending him a flat look, Phil mused, “you’re really not helping, Wil, you know that right?”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m doing it on purpose.” Scoffing, Phil slumped down in his seat and ran a hand over his face. “You look tired. Maybe you should get some rest, send Tommy or Techno—preferably Techno, I don’t feel like having Tommy _messing_ with the machines—in to keep watch.”

“They’re filming some of the next scenes, unfortunately.” Sighing, Phil looked to the side, out the window. “Besides, I stabbed you.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“No, Wil—I _stabbed_ you. I _killed_ you.”

“I know, I was there.”

“Wil—”

“ _Phil.”_ Their gazes met again, and Wilbur dipped his head every so slightly, still holding his dad’s gaze. “What difference does it make? We rebuild, we respawn, we regrow. That’s what we do as humans.”

“Wilbur—”

“I know, I know. You’re not quite human, what with your wings and all. Neither is Dream, or Bad. Skeppy. Ant and Schlatt and Fundy and even _Tubbo_. It doesn’t change, though.” Looking at his bandaged hands, at the scrapes and scars mapping their surface like canyons on land, Wilbur continued, “We’ll be fine. That’s what matters, right? Sure, we might get a little roughed up along the way, but sometimes that’s just how life works. Things don’t go the way we planned, we scar and heal and keep going. Right?”

Phil took another breath. With a sigh, he shook his head and looked at his middle child. “You need to tell me where you got your acting skills.”

“You and the Samsung fridge.” Wilbur cracked. Laughing, Phil shook his head and got up, crossing the room in a few short strides to ruffle his son’s hair. “Aw, messing up my hair? Really?”

“I’m a dad, it’s what I do.”

“Go mess up Tommy’s hair,” shoving at Phil’s arm, Wilbur tried to struggle away as best he could. The heart monitor started beeping beside him. Soon enough, Minx poked her head in and started cursing Phil out, making him get out to stop stressing Wilbur.

Which, of course, just made the young man fall back against the bed cackling as his dad was chased from the room like a cat who’d stolen some food from its owner.

+++

“You did this.”

Hands gripping the fences in front of him, Wilbur turned to glare at Phil. A sharp, shuddery breath rattled his shoulders as he turned, rain dripping from his form. Meanwhile, Phil stared at him. “You—you said I wouldn’t—you said I would understand someday. When you killed Friend. When you gave your little _message_ ,” he spat the words, and Phil flinched, “to everyone with your friend _Techno._ ”

“I had my reasons. I didn’t want to watch the government—”

_“Shut up! Just shut up!_” Panting, Wilbur continued. “You didn’t want to _watch the government_? No, no, you just—you didn’t want to face your own mistakes. Look at this!” Gesturing to everyone, he continued. A step in Phil’s direction made the man step back. Another shaky breath split the rain-laden air. “You destroyed _everything—_ and for what? Look at what you’ve done!” Pointing to Tubbo and Tommy, Wilbur roared, “Look at them and look at me!” Phil didn’t. _“ **Phil!** ”_ Wilbur was shaking now, panting with every breath as he drew himself up.

Phil glanced down at everyone, swallowing nervously. All of a sudden, he was back somewhere else, standing on a cliffside of a blown-open Manberg as fireworks exploded. Tommy and Tubbo stared up at him, battle scarred and bruised and bloodied. Off in the background, Techno and Dream stared quietly, holding their weapons. Sapnap was helping George stand up, and Niki was off a little way. Horror split every single one of their faces. Ranboo sprinted up, Eret grabbing his arm and pulling him underneath the cover of a ramshackle building. Fur sodden as he dragged himself, bloodied and aching, from a river, Fundy looked up at Phil with wide eyes. There was a deep, bloody gash across his ribs, and he pressed his paw there.

“Look at you,” Wilbur sneered, shaking his head. “You and Techno, the _Blood Gods._ Killza. _Pathetic._ Instead of treating your—you—you—” Stopping, the musician kept inhaling. None of the words were coming. For once, he was speechless. Tears dripped down his face. “Phil—"

“I told you my reasons.” Spreading his wings as lightning split the sky, Phil stepped forwards. Even with rain dripping from the feathers, with blood running from a broken nose and broken primaries and secondaries, he still looked every bit the man that Techno had sided with. The man that Wilbur and Tommy had grown up with as a father. Some _father_ he was. Yes, he had at least done some good, but everything else— _everything else he’d done_. “I don’t need to listen to another word of this. You should know your place by now, Wilbur.”

Staring at him, Wilbur sucked in a few breaths. His features twisted, and he shook his head. “I do, Phil. And that place is far, _far_ away from you and your—your _twisted_ perceptions of _everything._ You’re no hero! Who do you think you are, Daedalus?” Chest heaving, Wilbur gestured around them. “Is this your—your greatest creation? Do you think yourself a loving father? Tommy is no Icarus. Perhaps I was, perhaps I flew too close to the sun, but I was burned in the end. _I burned, Phil. I burned and I burned and I burned for what I did. _But you?” Looking him up and down, Wilbur let out a shaky laugh, taking another step in the mud. Gloved fingers ran through bloodied, muddied hair. “You haven’t faced anything for what you’ve done. You faced house arrest, for not telling a sixteen-year-old who _everyone_ gave the power to, who _everyone_ gave all the stress to, where your _murderous_ friend was—”

“Techno did nothing wrong. He saved Tommy!”

“Sure, after telling him to _die a hero’s death!_ You think I just—” Gesturing, Wilbur threw his arms to the side and said, “You think I just _forgot that?_ Pretended it never happened? I can tell you who definitely remembered—Tommy did! Why else would he think that Techno would kill him? Why else would he have willingly hidden under the floorboards! Dream manipulated and abused him—”

“Dream has his reasons.”

A chill settled over them all, and Wilbur stared at Phil for a second.

Letting out a breath through his mouth, Phil swallowed and stared at his oldest. “I don’t need to hear this. Techno, Dream, let’s leave.” He announced. Walking, he brushed by his son, smacking their shoulder together. And that’s when Wilbur moved.

Grabbing Phil by the shoulder, Wilbur dragged him around and threw him off the edge of the cliff.

There was a mighty _crack_ as Phil’s wing collided with one of the boulders below. Standing on the edge of the cliff, Wilbur made his way down easily. “No. No, this isn’t over. _This isn’t over. You_ are going to _listen to me for once in your fucking life, _do you understand me?” Pointing an accusing finger at Phil, his voice rattled as he continued the onslaught, “Are you proud of this? Are you proud of Tommy and I? That’s why you abandoned us. That’s why you let Dream do this to him. Why you’re _excusing it.”_

Phil’s eyes softened. “Let the past die, Wilbur.” Slowly, he started to get up. Wilbur growled and tackled him, and both of them fell off the canyon precipice before slamming into the water below. “Wilbur!” Getting up, Phil splayed his wings out, and Wilbur jumped to his feet.

“Is this what you want, Phil?” Wilbur gestured to everything around them. Blood spilled into the water from both their injuries. “Come on! _Killza!_ You killed me once, you can do it again! So do it! Kill me!”

“You’re my son!”

“Oh, really? Really, you’re using that excuse _again!”_ Storming towards him, Wilbur summoned his sword and snarled, “ _Come on! Killza! You never cared about Tommy—”_

_“Wilbur, you don’t know what you’re talking about!”_

Dodging in, Wilbur slashed with his sword. Panicking, Phil grabbed his own and blocked, stumbling back and dropping to his knees with a splash. Everyone stared at the battle in horror. _“You never cared about us! You just cared about appearances! You wanted to keep us under your thumb, make sure everyone liked you! Fuck your message, and fuck you!”_

“Wilbur, calm down, everything—” Wilbur dodged to the side. Slamming the pommel of his sword into Phil’s head, he kicked him in the back and sent him flying through the water. The sword swirled through the water, scattering droplets of water and blood as it went. Shoulders shaking, Wilbur growled audibly.

_“You can’t run from gods, Phil!”_ Wilbur shouted, “Look at all of this! I won’t pretend that I’m blameless. I am, I’ve done _everything_ wrong. I hurt Tommy, I hurt Tubbo, I hurt _everyone_. But at least I know when to own up to it! I’m sick of you acting like none of this matters!” He gestured around them again. “Look! Look at this!” Coughing, water dripping from him, Phil slowly got his arms under himself and pushed up, slowly turned onto his back to look at his son. “ _You_ allowed Dream to hurt everyone. You let me _abuse_ Tommy, and then you let Schlatt abuse Tubbo, and then you let Techno and I _both_ hurt Tommy. If you _actually_ cared, you would have stepped in earlier. You wouldn’t have sat by and let this happen. You _killed me_ shamelessly.”

“You asked me to—” 

“That doesn’t mean it was right! We both made a mistake that day, and my mistake was leaving _you and that bastard pig_ ,” Wilbur shot a venomous glare at Techno, “alone with _my brother! My—brother!_ I should have lived with the consequences, and I didn’t. But I’m facing them now, while you’ve dealt with _nothing_.” For a long moment, everything and everyone went quiet. Rain pattered down on the water around Phil and Wilbur, and eventually Wilbur raised his sword.

Closing his eyes, Phil looked away, still in the water.

Eret pulled Ranboo into a hug, holding him close and pressing their lips to his hair, hiding his face in their chest.

Wilbur sheathed the blade.

Phil glanced up at him, wide-eyed. “Let the past die, Phil.” Staring down at him, Wilbur mused, “That’s what you told me. And you were right. I will let the past die. I’ll let the past die,” eyes going cold, he spat, “ _and I’ll let you die along with it.”_

Turning, he began walking through the water, splashing clumsily through it. When he reached Tubbo and Tommy, he paused a few feet away and then met their gazes, dropping into a kneel. The two young men exchanged a glance, then ran to him and threw their arms around him. “I’m sorry.” Wilbur whispered, sitting back to run a gloved hand over Tommy’s hair. Blue eyes met his and Tommy smiled weakly, freezing when Wilbur pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then, he did the same with Tubbo. “Neither of you have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“Screw that, big man. We’re going.” Tommy whispered.

Voice weak, Tubbo nodded and added, “Yeah. Let’s leave this shitshow.”

Smiling, Wilbur slowly rose to his feet with the pair and looked around at everyone. “If anyone wishes to leave Phil, Techno, and Dream, wants to leave this dystopian hellscape, Eret and I are leading a group away. Far away from here. Everything will be forgiven and handled in a much better way, and we’ll start over again.” Eret straightened up where they stood under the trees, tears in their eyes. Turning to Phil, Wilbur scoffed and then looked to Dream. Not Techno—never Techno—just Dream. “When you realise that these two bring nothing but disaster, know this. You may have a place with us, so long as some…arrangements are made. No prisons, no bloodshed, but there will be some time before we can truly trust you. As for you,” his glare shifted to the others for a brief moment, “know this.”

Tommy took his hand, and Wilbur smiled at him. Blood dripped from a slit through the blond’s eyebrow, where an arrow had nearly gone through his eye. One of Phil’s.

Wilbur raised his voice, “As for you two, Phil and Techno. If you dare cross our borders, I do not care what pedestals you place yourselves on. I do not care what powers or weapons you may bring. If you cross our borders, _I will burn you_. Once the scars you’ve given us have faded from our bodies and our souls, then you can make an _appeal_ , but nothing more. If you bring an army against us, I will destroy you both myself and rip your lives from you until resurrection isn’t even a _possibility._ For anyone else who stays, I give you my blessing and my prayers that you can have good luck.”

With that, he turned his back on Phil, still gripping his brother’s hand, and led him away from the darkness that came with nightmares and monsters, and towards a little thing they hadn’t seen in a long while.

Hope.

+++

“Phil.”

The word split the server house as soon as the last scenes were finished. Boots thudded on the wood plank floors, spreading mud with every step, but Wilbur sprinted across the room without a care and threw his arms around Phil’s neck, hugging him tightly. In barely a moment, Phil returned it, arms around Wilbur’s ribs. A soft sound escaped him, and his wings half-unfolded to wrap around his middle child again.

Then, Wilbur stepped back, looking over his wings. “Did I hurt you? Shit, I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean for you to fall on the rock, I thought—” His fingers brushed over the top of Phil’s wing, ran over where the broken bone had been.

Laughing, Phil pushed him back. “Don’t worry about it, Wil. Techno, Dream, and I had some regen, courtesy of Minx and Schlatt, when we got back.” Wilbur nodded, bit his knuckle in concern as he looked his three friends over. “Did you sprint all the way back here? You’re soaking wet.”

Glancing back at the mud he’d tracked in, where Minx was currently cleaning it, Wilbur chuckled weakly. “Y-yeah. I sprinted. I wanted to get back—to apologise. You do care for us.” He said, and Phil smiled again. Clapping him on the shoulder, the winged man pulled him into a hug and Wilbur returned it with a tight but gentle squeeze. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I know. Don’t worry, I know.” Wilbur nodded, then went to go help Minx clean up after taking his boots off and setting them in the bucket by the door (this had happened before).

As Dream and Techno entered the room, Techno in his casual outfit and Dream in his hoodie, towelling off his dripping-wet hair after apparently taking a shower, both of them began talking. “Wilbur, that was _phenomenal._ How did you do it?”

Chuckling, Wilbur looked up and admitted, “Some of the analyses have been really angry when it comes to what Phil and Techno have been doing. Plus, my parents. And Eret’s. Tommy’s, in a way.” Scowling at the planks, he scrubbed at some mud. “Most of the people in Ranboo’s life.”

Everyone went quiet for a moment, and Bad strode in with Skeppy. “Wilbur! MVA! Most Valuable Actor! That was _amazing!”_ Skeppy cheered. Face heating up, Wilbur ducked his head and looked away. “Alright, now. Bad, let’s get to working on food. Minx, you wash your hands and help him, I’ll help Wilbur clean up.”

Phil sighed as he watched his middle child clean up. Then, he looked out the window where the rain was pouring down. Yet another season down, and one of the most intense finales yet.

He wondered what would be coming next.

**Author's Note:**

> Lol would you believe me if I told you that this started out with just the lines before “breath misting up the oxygen mask”? Like that’s where this stops every day before like two hours ago, it’s been crazy and a very fun writing experience. Anyways, the stuff Wilbur’s screaming about and that whole event is all made up in the World 7/Pog AU (she’s not in this one for reasons), and I wanted to include Ranboo because I knew that he was going to come up later. Also, keep in mind Chekov’s gun applies here! So…keep an eye out for that!  
> I have to get on to editing, but if this thing reaches [insert Tubbo squeaky toy noise here] then I’ll put [insert Tubbo squeaky toy noise here] on my tumblr so yeah that’ll be nice. Uh…still working on that 7k fic so…yeah.  
> Thanks for reading, I hope you have a lovely day, and I hope to see you in the next one!


End file.
